


Humanistic Inquiry

by palettesofrenaissance



Series: Spider-Man: College AU [9]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, College, College Student Peter Parker, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Not Canon Compliant, Peter and Michelle don’t meet until going to college, Slice of Life, Study Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palettesofrenaissance/pseuds/palettesofrenaissance
Summary: The first day of college classes begin well, routined, and relaxed. But thirty minutes into Michelle's 2:30 PM class, the professor pauses the introductory lecture as Peter enters with tousled hair and a perpetually lost stare which is the same as back in high school. Michelle thought she would never see him again after the half awkward, half ignored presence and company given back in high school.Michelle isn’t enthusiastic to run into Peter Parker again after high school.He freezes in the doorway, seeing all the eyes within the small lecture room staring at him, and Peter awkwardly asks, out of breath, if he's in the right classroom. And of course he takes the only closest seat—which just so happens to be behind Michelle.Michelle mutters to herself, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spider-Man: College AU [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/894012
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Humanistic Inquiry

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt: Peter and MJ are in the same class in college. Peter sits behind her and stares at her head and becomes that annoying desk-neighbor on top of being that high school associate that she wanted to never run into again. They have to work together in a group project and Peter is wants to start anew with her.**
> 
> _in this, peter and mj did not have any type of relationship in high school. mj does not know he is spider-man here just so it can fit the prompt. and "humanistic inquiry" is a real thing in college_

Peter and Michelle re-meet in sophomore year college.

It’s fall semester; the campus has gradually but rapidly transitioned from the blazing summer heat to the preparation of the cooler seasons. There are less skateboards on the sidewalks, less shorts and sunscreen while lying in the mowed lawn grass; there are less tabled events on the campus squares and the cardigans and jackets are being brought out from the back of clothing closets.

Instructors are short-tempered and students are less patient.

The campus library has switched out the beach-themed cutouts of yellow construction paper suns, blue ocean waves, and have taken down the flyers crowding up the ‘announcement board’—reminders to get STD vaccinations, fliers for history clubs and science groups and volleyball recruitments and stage reenactments. Numbers for tutors are put in its place, ‘new roommate’ search ads, about free spaces opened in on-campus housing. And girls carrying pastel laptop cases and holding their third venti-size from Starbucks scribble messages or complaints on the large dry eraser board along the wall, besides guys wearing overpriced boat shoes and ugly cowlick hairstyles—messages answering ‘What would you like the library to have more of?’ with ‘hot employees’ and ‘Keurig machines’ and ‘study rooms specifically assigned for certain majors/people.’

Peter and Michelle don’t meet for the first time in college—although Michelle could argue that this time was _comparably better_ than the half awkward, half ignored presence and company back in high school. If given a choice, she preferred to have met now instead of then—because college is the start of second chances, a second restart, a second time for self-discovery, and after the three years of what she’s known about _Peter Parker_ , this time is a relief from his never-ending conversations, his bad jokes, of his flaking on his friends and associates, of his secondhand embarrassment t-shirt logos with ugly typography, and his sporadic attendance, and his ability to never, ever come on time. Or call back. Or to have any kind of fucking social decency, which led to a lack of trust between his friends held at arm’s length, which eventually predetermined their fallout.

Likewise, Michelle isn’t _enthusiastic_ to run into Peter Parker again after high school. And despite the inkling of a _teeny weenie grudge_ she may still have from his past suspicious words and rumored secrets, she attends the first day of _Science, Knowledge and Objectivity_ prepared to cross out the last of her necessary courses in order to graduate a year early, ready to apply 100% attention to the professor and zero to the fraternity members gossiping in the background.

The professor boots up the projector machine hanging form the ceiling, saunters to the podium, and shuffles together papers as the last of those attending find empty seats.

The first day of class begins well, routined, and relaxed. Syllabuses are pulled up on cellphones and laptops as the professor reads off of the printed copy in front of the class. There is a clarification of the necessary textbooks needed. Michelle repositions her notebook, pencil and pen in a meticulously tidy presentation; her designed metal tumbler sits at the top corner of her desk. Her textbooks are stacked underneath her chair, her being the few who brought them ahead of time.

The first day of this fall semester begins smoothly and expected, but thirty minutes into her 2:30 PM class, the door’s knob loudly interrupts the professor and then Michelle freezes, stares, and violently _sneers_ because she’s witnessing the reviving of tousled hair and the perpetually lost stare which she had been _so sure_ had been abandoned back in high school; the owner whom she had been certain had gone to travel a different life route than she and Michelle would _never see again_.

But still he stops in the opened doorway, taking in all the eyes within the small lecture room staring at him, and Peter awkwardly asks, out of breath, “Is this Science Objective with Mr. Brennan?”

“This is _Science, Knowledge, and Objectively_ , yes,” Peter is corrected. “Are you in the right class?”

“You’re Mr. Brennan?” Peter glances quickly to the audience. “I’m Parker. Peter Parker…sir.” He thinks that attendance was taken.

“Yes,” the professor only responds to the question. His fingers unnecessarily straighten the edges of the syllabus papers as he waits out Peter’s awkward silence, and then for the student to take the hint, finally nod in acceptance, and take an empty seat.

And of course he takes the only only closest—which just so happens to be behind Michelle.

Michelle mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” and stares at him along with the rest of the class as he hurries to the single chair and desk.

She’d chosen this course not only because of its relevance to her major but because it was supposed to be fun; it was supposed to be _easy_ as well as relevant to her interests. What _isn’t_ supposed to happen is her seeing a ghost, to have a memory oozing awkwardness and embarrassing reminders of the past.

Peter is nothing but a memory that was never able to be labeled as neither _good_ nor _bad exactly._

He carries a beaten-up book bag slugged over one shoulder, wears wrinkled drawstring lazy pants and a plain t-shirt and a blush across his features that is more from exertion than embarrassment.

Michelle rolls her eyes and continues training her gaze tot he professor at the front of the room.

The professor is a man who doesn’t joke much and has high expectations; with a stern, deep voice that punctuates, he makes it known that he hadn’t appreciated Peter’s interruption and impatiently goes over the syllabus again.

The young man dips his head once when the professor addresses him and takes a quick scan around the room—the kind where you don’t really register anything or anyone, not fully—and slides down in his seat, trying to shrink away.

Michelle can hear him shuffling, unrest, and makes sure to not turn around any further than needed when stretching—no more further than she can make out from the corner of her sight.

* * *

Midway through class, a chill runs up Michelle’s spine. She doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not but a part of her wonders if Peter has become one of the hundreds others who transfer out of classes within the first week of the semester because of laziness. She wonders why does his book bag look like it was ran over, and why would he ever choose a philosophy-leaning course instead of, say, a branch of science or one engineering-focused. More so, she wonders what had happened to him the times he disappeared back in high school. She wonders if whatever it had been, if his bad habit has carried over to college.

It’s not something she should really be tossing about in her head but she can’t help it. Especially when he’s called on by the professor to read a passage aloud and Peter fumbles, embarrassed, because the inquiry is about the syllabus which he hadn’t had time to print beforehand. As a way to earn back favor-points, he pulls out the assigned textbook along with the rest of the class when instructed. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong book.

Michelle’s eyes widen at the secondhand embarrassment.

His anxiety is coming off in waves, she can feel—or maybe it’s the reminiscing and memories of their high school associations to each other. The professor seems to notice, unfortunately for Peter’s sake, as he’s asked to clarify the meaning of a paragraph just read aloud by a girl at the other end of the room. And Peter’s hair is just as messy as his unpressed pants and he’s starting to perspire from the expectation and Michelle’s secondhand embarrassment turns to apprehension from this disaster. She hears Peter mumble something underneath his breath, fingertips making a continuous low rhythm along the edge of his desk.

It hits the pinnacle when worksheets are passed around for a class assignment that will count as attendance, and he rummages around in his book bag—a Disney one, obviously chosen for time and convenience rather than style—before pulling away with a hissed curse. Finger taps are given to the back of her chair. Sheepishly, he asks if Michelle has an extra pencil to borrow.

“No I don’t, super-nerd.” It’s a lie.

By his silence, she thinks he gets the idea to not bother her further. She hears him receive one from a girl named Savannah to his left. And Michelle is partially satisfied with herself—partially, because she still wants _answers_. She doesn’t know that after her reply, Peter had stared at the back of her head with the sudden sense of familiarity. He had not been called that nickname since high school.

But because Michelle does not know this, she feels rather proud of herself by his silence but _dumb_ at the same time.

She’s _dumb_ because she didn’t _think_ —hadn’t considered the possibility of how quickly he would put two and two together—hadn’t suspected for them to be put together by the slip of tongue. So during the duration of the next three class attendances, Michelle doesn’t register the intense stare in her general direction until the third week into the semester. It’s when she’s reaching inside her bag beside her chair does she catch him, from the corner of her eye, his blatant stare before its directing it to the front of the room—which wasn’t a smooth transition, as their being nothing in the from of the room, the professor at the desk in the far corner and the class having noses in their textbooks, so there’s nothing to cover his actions.

His stare is a little act that doesn’t arise any thought or concern until it happens four times more. _That’s_ when Michelle gets suspicious.

That’s when she starts picking up on his disappointment and hears his mumbles of never beating her at arriving first. She starts to notice the way he keeps running hands through his hair, that he stops attending in baggy and ill-fitting pants less, that he’s constantly staring at the back of her hairdos and at her flyaways and the iron burn on her neck.

It isn’t a bother so much as it sparked curiosity and encouraged her to _question_. So when Michelle calls Peter out on it—“Is there something _fascinating_ about whatever it is on the _back of my head_ or is this going to be a usual thing with you?”—and he apologizes, bashfully.

Come the next week of attending the class, Michelle is quite positive that Peter remembers who she is by now despite having dyed her hair.

The professor prefers to call students by first name, and a student on Michelle’s right is who she’s started walking with after and to her next class, leaving Peter to stare after with narrowed eyebrows. A part of Michelle prefers that Peter hasn’t tried to rekindle the ashes of their relationship—no pun intended; not that there had been even a romantic one back in high school—another part of her is _relieved_. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work out in her favor.

On the sixth week of class, the class is assigned group partners through a disorganized method by the professor that no one questions, and, Michelle is grouped with Peter along with two others in their row of desks.

She groans.

It doesn’t start badly.

The project is to count as their midterm.

Two of her five-person group are sorority girls who are _deep_ in the fraternity life. This leaves only Michelle and one other student to work on the project, minus Peter.

It starts off extremely badly.

Between the two high school alumni, there is the obvious avoidance on her part and how Peter is suddenly unable to look at her directly.

The professor had given out worksheets of instruction and a project guide. The class is informed of the expectations and the project requirements; students with raised hands are given advise. The room is told that they are to present their work to the class.

Within Michelle’s group, one of the sorority girls bail after the first meeting in the campus library never to be seen or heard from again. The other girl never even shows up. So who’s left is one other student who, in comparison, is honestly the most helpful. The pair agree to meet twice more before Peter finally makes it to a meeting. When he does, it’s just Michelle who remains at the library after their study room reservation ends. She has no patience to give for his absences.

He voices this when they are finally alone. The first thing out of her mouth is for him to “Not continue this record of yours of abandoning others. At least, not when people are relying on you. We’re in college now, after all.” That is the cleaned paraphrasing of it, at least.

At first he’s confused.

Michelle rolls her eyes, breathing a disappointed sigh.

And when it registers, all Peter can do is nod and agree, unless he’s willing to tell her the true reason he’s always arriving late, why he’s always out of breath and having bruises or cuts.

It helps that Michelle doesn’t ask either questions.

He isn’t _ignorant_ about why she’s so blunt and has zero tolerance—it helps that she’s _vocal_ about it, at least, which is more than others had been. The disappointing factor in it is that he’d thought this was bypassed, assuming that the two had been relatively close back in high school. A spotty relationship but it was still there.

College is taken as a time to turn over a new leaf and to start over correctly. Peter becomes determined to gain her approval.

It is finally earned the week before their presentation.

Michelle smoothed out over time but the low expectations are still there. By now, the two have bene working alongside their third active group member putting in weeks worth of dedication to the project’s completion. Given in those weeks, the three became well acquainted.

In the final week before the midterm project is due, Peter decides to reveal the truth to Michelle: his reasons why for being idiotic and ignoring her concerns back in high school; of his low improvement since then, but leaving all the information about Spider-Man. It’s late at night, on the second floor of the campus library. Their table is in a study room with glass walls, the window overlooking the lawn. Michelle’s wrapped in a blanket, editing the slides that their third group member hadn’t finished due to work schedules. It’s likely going to be an all-nighter.

Peter leaves for seven minutes to review his story a final time—to make sure there will be no slip ups to reveal anything about superheroes. But by the time he returns Michelle has fallen asleep on the study room table, her laptop still open, a limp hand smashing the the letter B, repeatedly, into a textbox.

He wakes her by gently shaking her shoulder; he prepares for her grumpiness and the choice words to follow. It never comes but Michelle still doesn’t fully trust him, aha tells. And so, he uses that as his leeway into asking to turn over a new leaf for their college years.

As a conclusion and offering gift he offers, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Michelle jokes with a serious face. “Whoa. You’re moving way too fast with this, Parker.” She groans as she stretches awake. Gives a small grins.

“Sorry. Would you like me to _get you_ a coffee?” he corrects.

She fakes as if she’s thinking the offer over. Then she orders: “Sure. Mocha. Three shots of espresso.”

The coffee served as a band-aid and forming bridge between the two.

* * *

The three earn a passing grade on their midterm project presentation.

* * *

In the weeks after, Michelle and Peter start to grow closer than they have been before. And soon after, she starts stealing _his_ hoodies, making it _a little more difficult_ to wear his hero suit out in public by hiding it underneath his baggy clothing when running late.

**Author's Note:**

> **feedback as comments are the only things I ask for in return for reading this**


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